Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Do not sue me. I have no money, I just have fun writing.

A/N: SORRY! I wish it hadn't been a week late, too! It took me a long time to figure out where the story was going, and I hope it doesn't move too fast. . .but in the end I felt this was best.

Chapter 6: Parselmagick

The next day, Harry's alarm woke him at seven in the morning. Groaning, he rolled over and pounded the snooze button on the Magickal Alarme Clocke that Sirius had bought him. Damn Hogwarts and its resistance to electricity, Harry grumbled to himself. He had his own, muggle alarm clock at home which turned straight to the alternative rock station on its radio at 7:45 every morning. None of these. . . Augurey Call Wake-Ups, or something like that. Dismal morning.

He stood up and stepped into a pair of pants, pulling the draw-string tight. A black muscle shirt followed, before he walked into the bathroom and splashed cold water all over his head. A moment later, he heard something collide with the bathroom door. Walking over, he opened the door slowly. A paper airplane flew into the room and unfurled itself, folding into a mouth. Dumbledore's voice came from it. "Ah! Mr Black, it appears you are awake. If you wouldn't mind coming to my office at eight o-clock this morning, we need to discuss your schedule and a few things of more. . .personal import."

Harry grunted in response, and the airplane folded back together and flew away. Harry normally began his day with an hour of running and weight-lifting, followed by some martial-arts training, but he could see he would have to forgo that. An early breakfast it is, he thought, walking out of the room and down the hallway. He found his way to the staff room, and the gargoyle in front let him in with some minor grumbling about under-age staff members. Finding the door to the Great Hall, he intoned the password, and walked in.

"Hello, Mr. Black," a silky voice said from the Head Table. "I wouldn't have thought that Sirius would have found someone willing to mate with him. Although I suppose money does buy everything.'

"Mr Snape," Harry began, but was interrupted.

"Professor Snape, Black."

"In which case, that would be Student Tutor Black, Professor. And it would appear that the intellegence of your insults has not improved from your school-days. Dear me, I'd expect at least some more. . .maturity, but I guess you never really had a chance?"

"Show more respect, Student Tutor!"

Harry chuckled. "Dad tells me that daily, never did work. TTYL, Professor!"

The acronym seemed to stump Snape, Harry realized as he walked towards the Gryffindor table, where he saw Hermione eating. Clearly, wizards with no knowledge of the Internet would have no clue about internet-isms, or SMS abbreviations. Harry wondered what chaos he could cause with staff memos. . .

"Good morning, Marcus," Hermione said when he slid onto the bench next to her. "Nice to see someone else up at this hour – normally Ginny joins me for an early breakfast, but she had to go meet a friend from Ravenclaw today."

"How goes it in the House of the Lion?"

"Same old, same old. Ronald Weasley is a prat, the whole house follows him like a god, even the older years…a few of us respectfully and quietly disagree and go our own way. Not really the family McGonagall talks about, but. . ." she slowly spread jam over her toast. "How are your quarters?"

"Excellent," Harry said. "I have a bedroom, a living room, a dining room, a kitchen, and a bathroom all to myself. It's like a complete flat – though a bit small after living in the Black house."

"How big is that? I've heard you Blacks are filthy rich," Hermione said.

"Big. Really big. I'll take you there over Christmas or something, you've got to see the lake outside during the winter – heaven, I tell you, heaven!" Harry reached over and grabbed a muffin and a goblet of pumpkin juice. "What's your first class?"

Hermione handed him her schedule. "Transfiguration, Double Potions, and Arithmancy today, I see. You have a pretty full schedule. . ."

"Nothing like my third year," Hermione said, grinning. "That year I had to use a Time Turner to get to all my classes. It was totally ridiculous!"

"A Time Turner? That's insane – who allowed you to do that?"

"McGonagall," she replied, " – surprisingly enough."

"McGonagall! I can't believe it – what did you do to get her on your side?"

"Paid attention in class, got a hundred percent on every exam –"

"Basically being a teacher's pet,"

"Yeah – hey! What do you mean, a teacher's pet?" Hermione asked leaning threateningly towards Harry, an evil look in her eyes.

"Look, I'd love to explain, but I have a meeting with the Headmaster! TTFN," Harry said, as he jumped over the table and raced out of the room. That girl was scary.

Harry walked up to the gargoyle in front of the Headmaster's office, and cleared his throat. Shifting from foot to foot, he wondered how to get up into the office. His wonderment ceased when the gargoyle shifted to the side, and motioned him forward. "Headmaster awaits," it croaked. Harry stepped onto a spiral staircase that slowly raised him up into the air. It stopped in front of an old wooden door with a knocker. Lifting the knocker, Harry let go and it fell with a resounding smash. The door swung open, and Harry stepped into the round room. It was filled with objects stacked all over the floor, desks and shelves. "Headmaster?" he called out in a low voice.

"Ah! Marcus! There you are," Dumbledore said, appearing out of no where. "I was hoping you'd got my note. Now, to business. Here," he said, handing Harry a long sheet of parchment, "is a schedule. When a student, or several students, sign up for tutoring on the similar parchments in their common rooms, yours will update. You have the option to accept or reject the appointment – but that must be done within three hours after the student has signed up. Now, if that is all in order, I am brought to the more personal reason for this meeting."

At that, Dumbledore turned around, and walked away, gesturing for Harry to follow him. A wall opened up in front of the Headmaster, revealing a small room off the main office. The room was covered in books – books all over shelves from floor to ceiling, two desks, the floor, a few even floating in the air. The headmaster paused for a moment, then snapped his fingers. A wooden box flew off a shelf and land in the Headmaster's outstretched palm. "Here it is!" he exclaimed, turning towards Harry. "Now, Harry, this box is for you. Your father left it with me, to give to you at any time between your fifteenth and sixteenth birthdays. I apologize that you did not receive it from me sooner, unfortunately the month of August is simply exceedingly busy for me, as the Headmaster of a school. But I hope you will not be too angry, and will make an attempt at opening it. Your father was most insistent that you have it."

Harry reached out and took the box – it was light, about the size of an ear-ring box, or some such thing. "Thank you, Headmaster," Harry whispered. Something his father had wanted him to have. "What do you mean, make an attempt?"

"Well, it can only be opened, as James put it to me, by its rightful owner, and even then only if the owner speaks the password. I could never open it, he said, but he thought you might. I hope whatever you find might be useful. Now, I'm afraid I am extraordinarily busy today, so you'll have to excuse me if I see you out the door now. I hope you receive many pupils today!"

Unfortunately, the headmaster's hope was unfounded – not a single student signed up for tutoring that day – which Harry didn't find too surprising. After all, who would need tutoring the first day of term? So it was after a fairly boring day that Harry found himself in his quarters, staring at the box in front of him.

"How to open you," he muttered to himself. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," he tried, using the password for the Marauder's Map that his father and Sirius had made in their school years. No luck.

He placed the box down and was about to stand up, when he saw a portion of the box lightening in color. As he watched, an animated image of a green snake appeared on the top of the box. "Speak the password," the snake said to him.

Harry said again, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," assuming that what had worked the first time would this time as well.

The snake disappeared into the box, turning the entire box green in the process. It glowed for a second, and then grew several times until it was the size of a school trunk. Harry reacahed forward and unlatched it, finding a cloth covering whatever was in the trunk, with one book resting on top.

It was an old book, bound in leather, with tattered pages. He opened it, and saw the first page covered in strange, curly sigils. He blinked his eyes, and as they blurred he saw the letters disappear. "What is this?" he muttered, and before his eyes, words drew themselves into the page.

A Fulle and Complet Guyde to Parselmagyck

by Adrian Potter

With aid from his friend, Emrys Merlin

And additions by other Potters of his line

A leaf of paper fell out of the book. Harry picked it up and began to read.

Dear Son,

If you are reading this, then I am dead. I am sorry you had to grow up without me and your mother, but I hope that Sirius has raised you well. We have known since you were born that you are a Squib – don't worry, we don't hold it against you. Besides the fact that you are our son, Squibs among the Potter line hold more power than most wizards. You can read this, and the book it was placed in, because you are a Parselmouth – a speaker to snakes. Most wizards don't realize that the ability to speak Parseltongue comes with the greater ability to perform Parselmagyck, an obscure branch of magic discovered, and in part created, by the Potter family. Study well the use of this magic, I only wish I was there to guide you in it, for it is a dangerous study. All Potters have been Parselmouths – it is our greatest secret. Do not disclose this to any but your soul-mate, should you, like me, have the good fortune to meet her.

This must be short, we are about to cast the Fidelius and go into hiding. Do not mourn us much, and know that we love you will all of our heart. Be well, and use this power wisely. We love you, son.

James (and Lily)

Harry let the letter drop. "Parselmagyck," he breathed, it what he could now discern as a hiss. Then suddenly he jumped up. "I can do magic," he said aloud. "I, Harry James Potter, can do magic!" Tears dropped from his eyes as he hugged the letter to him. I love you, Dad, Mum. Thank you. Thank you so much for this.

A/N: Hi there! Hope you liked the chapter! Expect a new one sooner than my usual week, because I feel guilty over the ultimate lateness of this one! Also, expect possibly a new story from me to start soon. Oh, and review! Much thanks to my reviewer of the last chapter, The King 43 Richard Petty, and also thanks to all the wonderful people who read my story! Tell me what you think, even if you hate it.